Author Notes: I've been writing this on and off for a while now, and have finally decided to post. I've read some great stories in this fandom, so I hope you like this. This is centred on Alan, and follows the movieverse, set after the film. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, none of it.

Veil of Glass

Part One

Alan sat on his bed, gently turning the pin over in his hands. All his life, he had been surrounded by the Thunderbirds, it was all he had ever really known. Even before International Rescue had been active, his father had been designing it. The island was more his home than the old family house could ever have been. This pin represented more than just his family acceptance of him into their secret way of life, because it was something good, something that had risen out of hell.

Alan involuntarily shivered, remembering that one horrible plummeting feeling when Thunderbird 5 was about to descend into the atmosphere, and no one had been answering their calls. In that moment, he had honestly believed that he had lost his whole family. More so, all he could think of was the argument he and his father had before they had left to save John. A knock on his doorframe caught his attention, and he looked up to see his eldest brother standing in the open doorway, "Hey Alan. I was wondering if you were up for a training session in Thunderbird 1 tomorrow; Virg is taking Fermat and Tin Tin out in Thunderbird 2, but Dad figured that two newbies were enough for our brother to handle."

Alan grinned, "That'd be great!" He didn't bother hiding his enthusiasm.

Scott smiled in return, "I want you up and ready by 6am; Dad wants us to start repairs on John's bird tomorrow, so we'll need to be back well before lunch. Night sprout!"

Alan would have yelled a retort at his big brother for the nickname, but he couldn't shake the nerves he was suddenly feeling. Not because of the training session tomorrow, but of the idea that his family would be going back up there. He berated himself for being so stupid. They went into life or death situations on rescues every day. There was no reason this should be any different. The Hood was in prison, he couldn't touch his family anymore.

Alan woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He glanced at the clock. 7:30am. Shit! He leapt out of bed, trying to ignore to spinning pain that the movement elicited from his head, and threw on some clothes. If he was this late, why hadn't Scott woken him up? His ran out into the dining area. It was empty. Confused to not see at least one person groggily stuffing their face, Alan padded through to the living room. Again, nothing. An inexplicable panic started to rise in his throat, but he quashed it, maybe they were on a rescue?

Convincing himself that was the truth, he walked as calmly as he could to his father's office. It was empty; control wasn't set up. Alan was truly panicking now, the pain in his head worsening as his breathing quickened, coming in short, sharp gasps. "Dad!" His voice echoed too loudly in the empty space, "Dad!"

Alan's voice hitched, and tears stung his eyes. They were all gone.

They're dead, he realised, You never saved them.

His vision skipped in multicoloured blurs as it began to grey around the edges, his panicked state causing him to hyperventilate. He backed up, attempting to leave the unnaturally empty room, but his back connected with the cool wall, and his legs gave out, making him half-slide, half-collapse to the floor. Curling into himself, Alan hugged his knees, tears wrenching through his body in harsh sobs.

Suddenly a pair of strong hands were grasping at his shoulders, and a voice was yelling something.

John had been grabbing a drink from the fridge when he heard someone crashing around in the living room. He had just finished up acting as control for a rescue, and was exhausted; he still wasn't fully healed from the attack, although it was nice to have his arm out of the sling. Thankfully he hadn't broken it, but the tendons had been pretty damaged. The call had come in at three in the morning, picked up by their secondary system on the island. Mud slide in Brazil. The others were on their way home now, and he knew that Onaha would soon be shooing him out of the kitchen so she could make some breakfast. Tintin and Fermat were down on the beach, having to forego the training session, and he knew Alan was still dead to the world; he had decided to turn the kid's alarm off and give him some extra sleep, if just so they didn't have to deal with a grouchy Alan later in the day.

A yell caused his head to snap up. It sounded like Alan. "Dad!" A second yell, this one much more panicked, scared. Worried, John ran in the direction of the yell, ignoring his ribs protesting at the movement. Skidding into their father's office, at first John thought it was empty, and then he heard sobbing to his right. Turing in shock, John saw his youngest brother curled up on the floor, clearly worked into a terrified panic. John hadn't seen him this scared since he was really little.

Crouching on the floor, John tried to shake Alan back to reality, but his brother's eyes were unseeing, too lost in fear. "Alan! Alan, it's John. Look at me Alan, I need you to calm down. It's okay, everything's fine." He took Alan's face in his hands, looking into his eyes. "Alan, Alan, please..."

John was scared. He knew Alan was having a panic attack, but he couldn't seem to calm him down, especially as he didn't know what had caused it. The rest of their family wouldn't be back for another half hour. Not knowing what else to do, John gathered his little brother in his arms, rocking him gently and stroked his hair, just as their father had done when they were ill as children.

Gradually, Alan's breathing slowed, the sobs becoming less hitched and panicked. John felt his brother curl his fingers tightly into his shirt, and press his body closer, as if scared John would disappear. "John?"

John loosened his hold so he could look at his brother properly, "Yeah, Allie, it's me." The childhood nickname of their littlest brother fell automatically from his lips, "How're you feeling?"

Confusion marred his younger brother's tear-stained features. "You're not dead."

John failed to hide the shock he felt from that statement. He hugged Alan tighter, "No, Allie, I'm not dead. Everything's fine."

"Is...is D-dad d-d-dead..?" Alan's speech came out fragmented and broken.

"No!" John's reaction was sharper than he intended. He softened his tone, "No. They're on their way home; just getting back from a rescue. We're all okay, Allie, everyone's fine."

Alan nodded jerkily, but his grip on John didn't relinquish, "Sorry."

John sighed, adjusting his position so he had his back to the wall and Alan next to him. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"I woke up, and I couldn't find anyone. I thought...I thought you were gone." It seemed stupid now, but at the time, the possibility had seemed all too real. Alan's head pounded, the pain worse than before from all the crying. He was glad it was John who had found him. He loved all his brothers, but John was the one who was always so calm. He would joke around just like the rest of them, but he would never go too far, and he always knew how to make things better.

John mentally swore. How could they all have been so stupid to think that everything was fine? He was still having nightmares, for crying out loud, and he was an adult. They had all just assumed Alan was fine, just like he always was. He rested his forehead against his brother's, "Everything's over, Allie, I promise. Dad'll never let anything get that close to the family again." Alan nodded slowly. He seemed to have calmed down, but John was still worried, "Think you can stand up?"

Alan was going to answer that he could, but he suddenly wasn't so sure. His head was spinning again, and his legs felt like water. Instead, he settled for, "I don't know."

John gave him a reassuring smile. "Put your arm around me."

Alan complied, and unsteadily they stood up. John led his swaying brother through to the living area, helping him to sit down on a sofa. He watched in dismay as Alan immediately drew his feet off the floor curled up again. He was shivering, but with the temperature outside, there was no way he could be cold. Nevertheless, John grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it around Alan's shoulders, sitting down next to him. He was pretty sure the shivering was a side-effect of the panic attack, but it didn't stop him from wishing Virgil and the others would hurry up and get home quicker; without the Tracy family, the island always seemed overwhelmingly bigger.

Putting an arm around his brother, John once again let Alan lean into him. They didn't speak for quite a while, and he soon realised that Alan had fallen into a light sleep, exhausted. It wasn't long before a clattering could be heard in the kitchen, and roaring sounded overhead as their family returned home for breakfast.

John desperately wanted to go to meet them, but he didn't want to think about what would happen if Alan woke up alone, so instead he had to wait for them all to get changed and meander in for breakfast.

He didn't have to wait long before their father and Scott came in going over the schematics of the rescue. Both stopped when they saw the remainder of their family on the sofa, "John?" The scene could have been innocent enough, but Alan never slept in the day once he was awake, and something about the way John was holding his younger brother made alarm bells ring for their father.

John ignored the questioning tone. He had already decided he didn't want to tell them about this in front of Alan in case he woke up, so instead he directed his speech at his elder brother, keeping his voice low, "Scott, can you sit with him? If he wakes up, just keep talking to him. I need to speak with Dad."

Worry immediately clouded the eldest Tracys' features, but Scott complied nonetheless, taking John's place on the sofa, momentarily shocked at how his normally independent little brother shifted slightly, taking a loose grip on his shirt. He also noticed that Alan's face was not peaceful, but troubled even in sleep, and his eyes red as if he had been crying. All of his muscles were tense. He looked sharply up at John, but didn't move, worry coiling in his stomach; Alan had been fine yesterday.

John took his father by the arm, and led him out of the room. Seeing Virgil and Gordon on their way over, he indicated for them to follow. Confused, the brothers complied, and they all went into Jeff's office, John shutting the door behind them. Virgil was the first to speak, "What's going on? Where's Scott?"

"He's with Alan." John replied, his sombre tone catching his other brothers' attention.

"What happened, John?" Their father asked, "You didn't mention anything on the comms."

"It happened after I signed off. I thought I hear some yelling and came to investigate, walking in on Alan having a full blown panic attack."

"What?" Jeff's heart leapt to his throat.

"He's still really shaky, but I managed to get him out of here and into the living room, where he fell asleep. He woke up and couldn't find anyone. Dad, he thought we were all dead."

Gordon swore, "I thought the kid was doing alright?"

John shrugged, "So did I."

"Well, can you blame him for flipping out?" Virgil commented worriedly, "There's only so much stress a person can handle before they need some sort of outlet, and his spring break has hardly been easy. I'll check him over, and we'll see how it goes from there."

John nodded, "I don't think we should make a big deal of it; it'd just make Alan more self-conscious, but I think you need to talk to him Dad."

Jeff Tracy nodded; he didn't need to be told.

The four moved back into the living room, just as Alan was waking up. He sat up slowly, a pained frown creasing his features. Confusion clouded his voice, "Scott? What's going on?"

Scott studied his little brother's face carefully, "You tell me, sprout. We only just got back."

"Got back from where? How did I get here?" The confusion was becoming more evident now. He looked up as the rest of the family walked in, "Dad?"

There was something in Alan's expression and voice, combined with what John had just told them which spurred Virgil to ask what seemed to the rest of the Tracys to be such an odd question, "Alan, what's the last thing you remember?"

Alan frowned, but compliantly answered the question, "Going to bed. Scott was gonna take me out on a training session." John's stomach plummeted. The kid had only been asleep for a little while, but he didn't remember any of the morning? Alan seemed to be getting more nervous by the minute, "What's wrong?"

Jeff sat down on the other side of his son, while the others took seats on the opposite sofas, "You had a panic attack this morning, Alan." Alan's expression remained fixed in confusion, while Scott had to force himself to keep a blank face at this revelation, "We were all out on a rescue, but John was here and managed to calm you down."

Alan was having trouble assimilating what his father was trying to say, "But I don't remember anything. Why can't I remember?" Fear began to colour his tone.

"You might not have been awake." Virgil suddenly offered.

Everyone turned to him. Gordon voiced his confusion at his brother's suggestion, "How do you figure that one? From what John said he sounded pretty damn awake to me."

"Gordon." Jeff admonished; there was no need to make this situation more charged than it already was.

"It could have been a night terror. Worse than a nightmare, and most people who have them don't remember when they wake up. They create intense feelings of fear and panic, and can be triggered by extreme circumstances or trauma in adults. They can give the appearance of wakefulness, when actually you're not taking to a conscious person." Virgil explained.

John shook his head, "But he was walking around."

"I'm not a psychiatrist, John, but it sounds like it. I could make some calls..." He trailed off.

There was silence for a while as everyone absorbed the suggestion, "Will it happen again?" Alan asked. It wouldn't be so bad with his family around, but what if it happened when he went back to Wharton for the summer term?

"I don't know. It could just have been a one off triggered by the Hood's attack."

Anymore discussion was cut off by the call of breakfast from the other room, and the voices of the island's other inhabitants floating through. Jeff motioned for his sons to go and eat. Alan stayed where he was next to his father as the rest of them walked out, glancing back worriedly over their shoulders. "You should eat something, Alan."

"So should you." His son absently retorted, his eyes staring down at the table, but not really seeing it.

"It'll be fine." Jeff tried.

Alan smiled, his gaze neither wavering nor blinking, "Yeah." He got up and followed his brothers.

Jeff sighed, pinching the tiredness out of his eyes. Why was it always Alan?

Alan stood out on his balcony, watching the jungle sway placidly in the ocean breeze. The 'incident', as Alan referred to it in his mind, had happened a few days ago, and it would only be a little while longer before he was due to return to Wharton. Nothing had happened since, and Virgil was now optimistic that it was just a delayed reaction to all the stress the family had been subjected to recently. Alan was not so sure, but he neglected to mention anything, trying to shrug it off as nerves about finally becoming a part of the Thunderbirds.

He smiled sardonically, closing his eyes as the breeze created a gust that swept past him through the open doors into his room. And then his stomach lurched, and he suddenly found himself off balance, falling heavily into the balcony railings, only just catching a grip to stay upright. His breath was suddenly coming short and sharp, stinging his lungs. What the..? He willed himself to calm down, feeling the thudding of his now rapid heartbeat take what seemed to be an eternity to slow back to its original pace. Regaining his footing, Alan scrubbed his hands over his face, shoving the feeling to the back of his mind. It had been nothing. He was fine.

"Alan?" A soft voice floated from the depths of his room before his older brother John emerged out onto the balcony, "Alan, it's dinner; I've been calling- Alan, are you okay?"

Damn John. He was the only other one in his family who seemed to not fully buy into the one-off episode idea, and had been keeping a closer eye on him than even Dad. He forced the strange incident to the back of his mind and quirked a lopsided smile, "Sure. Hungry though, let's go!"

John watched his brother's retreating back with a frown. Something was wrong, he knew it, but just couldn't work out what. Sighing to himself, he followed the youngest Tracy to where the extended family had already sat down to eat, minus the water-child of the family, who had been acting as liaison on the mainland to help organise resources for the rebuilding of Thunderbird Five. Gordon had not been happy about leaving, but it had all been arranged before Alan's 'incident', and there was no denying it needed to be done. Nevertheless, he would be arriving later that evening, after finally securing all the deals earlier that day.

Dinner was an amicable affair as usual, and as no rescues had been conducted in the past 24 hours, it was an especially cheery atmosphere; Alan tried to dismiss John's extra looks over at him as paranoia on his part. Afterwards, Alan went down to the beach with Tintin and Fermat, and it was not until long after the sun had set, and the trio were walking back up to the complex that Alan heard jet engines fly over the island and land, "Wonder what that's about?" He wondered, but most of his comment was lost on the night air, and his friends failed to hear.

Fermat and Tintin both bid goodnight and headed off to their respective parents as Alan walked towards the living room, where he could hear the laughter of his family drifting out into the hall. He froze in the doorway.

Gordon turned, "Hey sprout! Miss me?"

Alan stared, face white, "W-what?"

Jeff frowned at his son's sudden change in mood, "Alan?" He rose from his seat and began to walk towards his tense son, "You okay?"

"This isn't real." Alan's breath was once again catching in his throat and he didn't know where to turn.

All of the family were on their feet now, Gordon stepped forwards, "Hey, kid, calm down."

Alan stumbled backwards, "Get away from me!" His wrenching yell made the family freeze. Tears began to well in his eyes, "You're, you're dead! You're not real!" His voice choked on the word, and he fled from the room.

One second the men were frozen, the next their father was yelling orders, "Wait here! Virgil, I'm going to need your help!"

The other three Tracy brothers desperately wanted to protest with their father's instructions, but knew it would be bad if they crowded Alan right now. John chewed on his lip as he watched their father and Virgil dash after the frightened teenager, "I knew something was wrong earlier. I should have made him talk." He turned to Gordon, who looked shaky, "You okay?"

"What? Yeah, sure. It's just..." He trailed off, the concept of being dead in his brother's eyes being too much to put into words.

"He wasn't asleep." Scott muttered.

"What?"

"He must've come back from the beach, and wasn't dressed for bed. So there goes Virgil's theory, unless he's got an explanation."

"What now?" Gordon asked.

"We wait." Scott tone was final.

Alan tore through the halls of his home, not really paying attention to where he was going, only that he had to get away. That couldn't have been Gordon! His brother was dead! And the rest of his family were acting as if there was nothing strange going on! He couldn't deal with this, it was too much, too close to the loss of his brother for him to even think about trying to cope.

He skidded into a bedroom, slamming the door, and retreated to a shadowy corner opposite the door, sliding down and hugging his knees. His head pounded with emotion, and his skin prickled and crawled. He felt trapped.

This wasn't right.

The door burst open, revealing his father, wearing a drawn, worried expression, "Alan?" He didn't want to answer; he shouldn't have to explain. Jeff tentatively drew closer, before bending before his son to make eye contact, "Alan, it's your father. Do you know where you are? Want to tell me why you ran away?"

He reached forwards, intent on placing a hand on Alan's shoulder, only for his son to jerk violently away, "Why did I run away?" Alan parroted, his tone poisonous and cracking with hysteria, "Because my dead brother was sitting on the fucking sofa, that's why! I'm seeing things, Dad. Gordon's dead! The Hood killed him; he died up there!"

Jeff blinked in shock at his son's words, feeling Virgil's anxious presence at his back. Very gently, he tried to calm Alan down, to explain, "Alan. Your brothers are all very much alive. No one died on Thunderbird Five-"

"Don't call it that! You built it and now it's your fault he's gone! He's dead and gone and never coming back! He can't be here! You're lying!" Alan's screams cut across Jeff, making his father wince.

"Alan-"

"No!" The yell was desperate and final as he fought against his father's grip, trying to escape once more.

As much as he hated to, he called for his other son, "Virgil! Please!"

Silently, Virgil moved forwards, only just about succeeding in administering a light sedative to his thrashing brother. As Alan began to relax in Jeff's arms, and his eyes began to droop, Virgil bent down next to the pair, "It won't knock him out for long – three to four hours maybe." There was a pause before Virgil gathered the courage to say what needed to be said, "Dad..."

"I know." Jeff stopped him, "But we'll wait until he wakes up first. I want to talk to him when he is hopefully a little more lucid. We're going to need to move him somewhere more comfortable."

"He can have this room." The rest of the Tracy brothers were standing in the doorway. Gordon stepped forwards, "I don't mind using a guest room."

Virgil shook his head, "No offence Gords, but the kid thought you were dead. I don't think waking up in your room will help matters."

"He still ran to this room though." John pointed out, so quietly it was more to himself than the family.

"We'll put him in his room, and wait until he wakes up." Jeff's tone left no room for argument, and the family grimly nodded in agreement.

Alan felt like he was drowning. He struggled and struggled to reach the surface, but it was just so hard, and he was just so tired. Finally, he managed one last push, and found that his eyes were able to open. His head pounded to the extent that it made him feel physically sick, and his eyes were sore and itchy. He watched the ceiling for a moment, before taking into account his surroundings. The last thing he remembered...well, he couldn't really pin it down, but he was pretty sure it had been important. He turned his head. His father was sound asleep on a chair, elbows and head resting on Alan's mattress. The man was snoring softly as the morning light showed just how stressed his father was. "Good morning sunshine."

Alan turned his head ever so slightly, bringing into view his older blond brother, smiling softly and equally as tiredly from his adjacent seat, "You had us worried – we didn't expect you to sleep this long; you must've been exhausted. How're you feeling? Remember much of last night?" John was clearly on edge, but his quiet brother did a good job of masking it. Alan gave a pointed look at their father, John smiled, "He fell asleep a little over an hour ago."

Alan cleared his throat, suddenly finding it as dry as sandpaper, "What happened last night?"

John chewed on his lip, clearly nervous about being the one to break the news, "You had another one of those episodes, Allie." At his brother's overwhelmingly confused frown, he elaborated, "You thought Gordon was dead." John knew he should probably have woken their father, but also thought it would be a good idea to break the news while Alan was still half asleep. He braced himself, fearing the worst response.

Worst didn't even cover it.

"Who's Gordon?"

John gaped, his normally neutral, passive countenance shattered, "I-what?"

Alan frowned at his elder brother; he was acting really strange, "I don't know anyone called Gordon. What are you talking about?"

John started slightly as their father woke up, "Alan! How are you feeling?"

Alan shrugged, sitting up slightly, "But rough, but I'll live. John said I had a freakout like last time."

Jeff looked visibly relieved at his son's response, while John's expression only continued to get more worried, "Allie, I know this question might sound odd, but who do we live with?"

Alan tilted his head to one side, analysing the strange question, "What, you mean like Fermat?" He shrugged, listing the names, "Brains, Fermat, Tintin, Kyrano and Onaha."

"And the rest of the family?" John prompted.

Alan's frown of confusion deepened, "Dad, you, me and Scotty." His eyes cast to the floor, before continuing, "If you're trying to work out if I remember recent events, then I know Virgil's gone."

Jeff and John exchanged looks. This was both impossible, and beyond bad; Alan's condition was deteriorating. Jeff continued from John's prompt, "How did Virgil die, Alan?"

Alan's eyes snapped open, their depths blazing with fire, "Die? I wish he had died! Is this some kind of joke? Stupid bastard falls for that gold digging bitch and abandons us! He doesn't live with us anymore, and I don't ever want to see his smug, self-righteous expression again in my life! Ever!"

Jeff was so shocked that he fell into an automatic response, "Watch your language."

Alan shrugged, "Your words, not mine."

John exchanged a nervous glance with his father, who somehow managed to pull off a weak smile. "Alan, why don't you grab a change of clothes in time for breakfast? John?" He rose, knowing his other son would follow.

As soon as they had shut the door and were a good way down the corridor, Jeff collapsed heavily against the wall. Under normal circumstances, he would try to be strong for his boys, but John was an adult, and right now he didn't think he could hold up a front for all of them. John placed a hand on his father's shoulder, "What are we going to do?"

Jeff shook his head, "I'm going to have to get hold of a psychiatrist. He's forgetting his family for goodness sake! What if..." He let the sentence hang in the air.

John tried to reassure his father, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it, "Alan will get through. He's a stubborn kid."

Jeff nodded absently, "I'm going to make some calls. Do you think you could talk to the others? I don't think it would be a good idea for Virgil to show his face right now, and seeing as Gordon is a complete stranger to Alan now, maybe it would be best if they both made themselves scarce." John winced; neither of his brothers were going to like that idea. "Just...try to act normal."

John let out a breathy half-laugh, "Normal. Great. And what if we get a rescue call?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Jeff shook his head, and gathered himself to take the walk long to his office.

John stayed where he was for a little while longer, absently watching the corridor that would take him back to the room of his youngest brother. This just wasn't fair. He thought back to the past few days since he had found Alan in their father's office. He had been avoiding them since then, but John had tried to be constant presence. Hearing his brother ask if their father was dead had freaked him out more than he would likely ever admit, and he hadn't wanted to leave the youngest Tracy alone. He knew his father and Scott had been sticking to the kid like glue as well, but... He frowned. Gordon had been forced away, while Virgil, although worried, had been pretty positive the problem had been one off and was content to let Alan sort himself out. Neither brother had had much contact with Alan since the incident in comparison with the rest of the family. He shook his head, dispelling the stupid notion. Alan remembered everyone else, didn't he? Why would he go selectively erasing his own family?

John ran a hand through his hair, trying to gain some perspective before going off to inform his brothers.

Alan pulled a fresh t-shirt over his head, trying to focus on dispelling the foggy feeling from his brain. John and their Dad had been acting so weird, but for the life of him, Alan couldn't remember what they had actually been talking about. Unfamiliar names ghosted their way across his mind, so insubstantial, so meaningless. He rubbed his forehead- why did he feel so...empty? And yet at the same time, the pressure beneath his skull was sure to cause a fracture it was so strong.

He shoved on his sneakers and pushed open his door.

And froze.

His heart thudded in his ears. Where the hell was he? This wasn't his home! This was some damn expensive place, and most definitely not his home! Instead of the traffic of New York, all he could hear was the sound of the breeze, and...was that the ocean? He whirled around to face the direction he had come, seeing a room that looked like his own, in that there was crap absolutely everywhere, discarded schoolwork over an untouched desk and various posters splattered across the walls, but it was a damn sight larger, brighter, and definitely not his room!

Terror ripped through him, and he screamed the first thing that came to his mind, "Mom!"

To Be Continued...

Author notes: There you have it. This is a two parter, and the conclusion will be up soon, but until then, I'd really love to hear your opinions!

(Revision: 14th May 2010 for continuity of spelling.)